Selenelion
by Matrix Refugee
Summary: Alternate History: Following Bella's dive off the cliff in New Moon, Charlie Swan realizes Bella needs some tough love if he's going to save him from herself.


**Selenelion**

By Matrix Refugee

**Notes:** Written for LiveJournal's dark_fest challenge, specifically the prompt "_Twilight, Charlie Swan, post book two: Charlie realizes the only way to save his daughter from her boyfriend is to get her as far away from Forks as he can. It doesn't help that she fights him every step of the way._"

This fic decided to set itself sometime in the middle of New Moon (possibly because I haven't actually read past it, partly because there were things in it that Just Bugged Me and I wanted to fix them). Title refers to the phenomenon where the sun and the moon are in the same time, something my mother calls "the children's moon". This seemed fitting, since the story deals with the problems that a child can cause for themself.

* * *

Something had to be done about that Cullen boy, but I had a hard time steeling myself to say what needed to be said to Bella. She'd been through enough after the divorce, but I had to take care of her. I had to protect her from him, if it came to that.

The thought crossed my mind to treat her like a case I was handling, like someone I was taking into protective custody. That seemed as good as anything, to help me take a step back from it, but that didn't make it any easier.

I brought it up at breakfast one morning, explaining to her my concerns, and letting her know that I knew what was going on. I might be older than her, but that doesn't make me blind or deaf.

"He's only keeping an eye on me because he cares about me," Bella argued.

"He broke into our house, and he was watching you while you slept," I said, keeping my voice even. "That's break in and entering as well as stalking."

"You used to watch over me when I was sleeping when I was little," she argued.

"That's a completely different thing: you're my daughter and we live in the same house," I said.

"So what are you going to do? Arrest Edward?"

"No. I know what he is. Billy Black told me about his kind," I said. "I can't do much about him, but I can help you."

"You'd help me if you'd left me alone," Bella retorted, starting to whine. "Edward loves me and I love him."

"Bella, I've seen this kind of things before. I've seen girls get messed up with a man that obsessed with them and I've had to break it to their parents when the man wouldn't take no for an answer when he wanted her to have sex with him and she didn't. Hell, I've been to scenes where a man has smacked his wife or his girlfriend around so hard that he put her in the hospital brain-damaged. There's worse things that could happen than getting killed."

"Edward wouldn't that to me, Dad. I'm not one of your cases," she snapped back.

She would pull that: most of the time, she was a closed book, but there really was a part of her that, likely unknown to herself, could push buttons as much as her mother could. I felt my resolve start to slide, but as the saying goes, I set my heart like flint. Hopefully, if she hammered at me, sparks would fly and light a torch for her to see by, instead of a wildfire to burn us both.

"Don't think I haven't heard girls say that before," I said. "There's risks I don't want you to take with your own life. You're dating what amounts to a wild animal; I don't want that creature to kill you or worse."

"So what are you going to do? Lock me up? Throw away the key?"

"I'm going to get you the help that you need."

She gave me a look that could have melted granite, but I managed to keep my own cool. "I don't need help, you do," she snapped, getting up from the table and stalking from the kitchen.

* * *

I knew about the things she'd been up to: the motorcycle seemed out of left field, even for her, and I wasn't sure what to make of her going with Jacob Black when she'd been going on about the Cullen boy, though I hoped Jacob could keep her out of trouble and help her find some way back to stability. But even a sensible kid like him didn't seem enough.

I called on Dr. Hyacinth Tessier, a psychologist who'd worked with a rape victim I'd helped some years ago, and who'd worked with dozens of girls in sad situations over the years.

"I've done everything for her: I don't get why she's doing this," I said, as I sat in Dr. Tessier's office, after a half hour telling her everything I could about Bella's situation. I'd never been comfortable with "the talking cure", but at this point, I'd have to get past my own discomfort since I was running out of options.

I was careful not to tell Dr. Tessier that her boyfriend was anything but human: I recast him as 'a member of some weird blood-drinking cult', which made as much sense as anything.

Hyacinth's red-brown face looked back at me, calm and open as a still pond. "Girls her age are often lacking in self-esteem, and for that reason, they don't see themselves as being worthy of a better life, of a partner who isn't the archetypal bad boy," she said. "But I'd say that's the least of her problems. She's more of a threat to herself, for getting herself into this situation, than her boyfriend."

"But she's had a good life," I argued. "It's not like Renee and I were beating each other senseless before we divorced. We just drifted apart."

"That can be almost worse, for a child: they don't see that anything was wrong, so there was no sense of release, since there was nothing to be released from," she replied.

"So how does that turn into Bella getting involved with some freak in a blood cult?" I asked.

"It could be the sense of danger that attracts her to him. The divorce could have affected her sense of well-being. Children tend to blame themselves, when there is any trouble between their parents."

"We made that clear to her at the time, that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with us just falling out of love with each other."

"A kid's inner thoughts often run deeper than we and even they expect."

I spread my hands a bit. "So what do I do now?" I asked.

"Do you have any family members that she could stay with for some time? You may need to get her out of your town for a time, while she recovers," she asked.

"I've got a cousin in Spokane she could stay with," I said.

"If she's a danger to herself, you're going to have to resort to tough love. You need to get her out of Forks and put her someplace safe."

My throat constricted. "Like a mental hospital?" I asked.

"If it comes to that. At the very least, you need to get her some place where she and regroup, where she can be watched, but not by total strangers."

"But wouldn't that be shuttling her around even more than she's been moved around?"

"It is, but it's removing her from a potentially dangerous situation, that she's allowed to turn toxic," Dr. Tessier said.

I released a breath that I didn't realize I was holding. "All right, I'll call Ruth tonight and see what I can do."

* * *

It took some planning, but I got everything in place. Fenton, my deputy, offered to help, and I much as I wanted to keep him out of this, I knew I was going to need him as back up if things went south. I put some calls out first, first to Ruth to let her know what was going on. Then I called on John, a hunter whom I'd dealt with some years ago: I'd taken him for a poacher until I saw the kinds of things he took down. If Edward and his clan came around again, they'd have to deal with John and his boys.

I broke it to her the next day at breakfast.

"Bella, you don't have to get ready for school. I've taken you out," I said. "I've told them you're on a medical leave."

"But I'm not sick," Bella cut in, starting to whine.

"Bella, I'm afraid you are: you're making yourself sick over the Cullen boy," I said. "Hell, you almost took your life over him."

"I was just seeing if I could do it when I jumped off that rock," she insisted. "The Quilleute kids do it all the time."

"As part of their culture's rite of passage. I found a psychologist in Spokane who can help you."

"Psychologists are for crazy people, I'm not crazy," she insisted.

"I didn't say you were crazy, I said you're sick. If you had cancer or you were on drugs, it would be no different than going to a doctor for that," I said.

She jumped up, knocking over her chair. "You can't make me go!"

"Yes, I can: you're my daughter, I'm your father, and I'm still responsible for you. If you can't take care of yourself, I'll have to see that you are taken care of."

"By packing me off to the looney bin?"

"You're not going to a mental hospital: you're going to live with cousin Ruth, but you'll be seeing a psychologist."

"You'll have to catch me first," she snapped, running for the back door.

I was a bit quicker and grabbed her arm. "Bella, don't make this harder for either of us."

"Let me go and it won't be hard," she cried, trying to shake me off. "What are you going to do? Handcuff me?"

That might not be a bad idea, if it came to that, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut and my face deadpan as I tried to guide her to the stairs and to her room.

She kept trying to stomp on my feet and kick me in the shins; I gave her arm a half-twist, letting her know I meant business. Once we reached the stairs, she connected with my ankle, nearly tripping me. I had to sucker-punch her in the gut to get her to stop jerking around.

"Let go of me! You can't do this to me, you bastard!" she screamed. Her words hurt me worse than the kick.

I had to kick open her door when we finally got up the stairs: my hands were full trying to keep her from bolting down the stairs. Letting out a choked noise, she tried to rush past me, heading for the window. I managed to tackle her, pressing on the artery under her throat until I felt her go limp under me.

Picking her up, I sat her down at her desk. She would likely come around in a few minutes, which meant I had that much time to pack a small bag for her. I riffled through her closet, stuffing tops and bottoms into a suitcase I found in the back of the closet, before going through her underwear drawer, adding some of the contents, which I could barely look at.

I'd just gotten the case zipped up when I heard Bella moan. I turned as she sat up groggily. "Wha' happened?" she mumbled. Then she stiffened before bolting for the window. I grabbed her, pressing her arms to her sides. "Bella, don't keep fighting, you're just making it worse."

"You're the one making it worse," she whined.

The hall door opened and Fenton rushed in. "Need help, Swan?" he asked.

"Get her bag and carry it down to my car," I said. Bella tried fighting me yet again. Between the two of us, we managed to get her downstairs and into the back of the patrol car.

"What are you going to do? Lock me up? Is falling in love a crime now?" she whined.

"No, but trying to kill yourself over your boyfriend is," I said.

"Want me to drive her and you lead us, chief?" Fenton asked.

"No, I got this," I said, though my voice sounded harsh in my ears.

"Might give you a chance to take a breather," Fenton offered.

Bella had started to bang on the windows with her fists. "All right," I said, turning away, as much to get going as to avoid seeing my daughter like this.

Halfway to Spokane and around the middle of the afternoon, we pulled over at a gas station/rest stop to refuel the cars and to let ourselves rest. Fenton came to my car as I stood filling the gas tank. "She's getting antsy: I think you'd better talk to her. She'd been quiet most of the way: I'd talked to her a bit, and she seemed like she was listening. But when we stopped, she tried to throw herself through the divider and I had to cuff her."

"She'll need a bathroom break," I said, taking the pump nozzle from the tank, recapping it and hanging the up the pump nozzle. "You keep an eye on us: if she makes trouble, jump in and give me a hand."

I found Bella crouched sullenly in the back seat, hands bound behind her back. I slid into the driver's seat.

"If you think I'm enjoying this, I'm not: it's cutting me up inside," I said. "Do you need to go to the ladies' room?" I asked.

"I'm surprised you're letting me do that much," she groused. "Yeah, I do."

I got up and unlocked the rear door, blocking the doorway with my body. She let me slip a hand under her shoulder as I helped her out and lead her to the convenience store/donut shop.

Unfortunately, the rest rooms were located inside, not on the outer side wall of the building, the way they often are, which meant we'd have to go inside.

The moment we stepped inside, Bella started to buck and scream. "Help! Help! I'm being held against my will! Help! He's taking me away from my boyfriend!"

The clerk behind the counter and the two truck drivers sitting at a nearby lunch counter looked up. One of the truck drivers moved like he was going to intervene, and the clerk started to reach for the phone behind the cash register.

"It's all right," I called over Bella's howls. "She's my daughter, I'm taking her to a mental hospital in Spokane."

Fenton came in behind us, holding up his badge. "It's all right: we're with the police in Forks."

"He's abusing his authority!" Bella yelled.

The clerk looked from Fenton to me to Bella. "You sure?" I was used to dubious looks from people I'd had to take into custody or who I was questioning, but the look pained me, probably because Bella had had a hand in inducing it.

"I've got a letter from a psychologist I saw after she'd tried to hurt herself, jumping off some rocks down by the bay in our town," I called out.

"I was not!" Bella howled. "You have to believe me: I did that because my boyfriend went away!"

"That's no good," the clerk said, setting down the phone.

One of the truckers snorted. "Girl, you and your boyfriend are better off without each other: No man's worth jumpin' off rocks over, and no real man wants a girl who'd do something that stupid," she said.

Bella emitted a howl of disgust and broke free of my grip. Fenton tried to tackle her, but she dodged him, knocking into a wire rack of maps, sending them scattering. She ran for the door, clearly trying to use the flying maps as a cover, but she slipped on one that had already fallen to the floor. My hand whipped to the tazer at my belt, drawing it and firing, hitting her in the arm, She fell sprawling, hitting her head on a shelf, knocking herself out.

"Dude, that was a bit much," the quiet trucker remarked.

"She got herself into this mess," the chattier trucker said.

I knelt over my daughter, feeling under her jaw for a pulse.


End file.
